


Seeing Eye To Eye

by Asreoniplier (AsreonInfusion)



Category: Video Blogging RPF, jacksepticeye
Genre: Consentacles, Gender-neutral Reader, Hypnosis, Lingerie, Mind Control (Mild), Other, Oviposition, Tentacle Dick, Tentacles, Teratophilia, Xenophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-06-16 02:10:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15426729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AsreonInfusion/pseuds/Asreoniplier
Summary: “Hey! Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold thefuckup. Why are you,” you point accusingly at Anti, “bringing your goddamn horny pet eyeball intomybedroom?”He stares at you with a wide, unsettling smile. “Oh, puppet. Do you need to ask?”[Tentacle porn & oviposition fic with Septiceye Sam/Reader, plus a small side of Anti/Reader. Reader is gender neutral. I'm awful *finger guns*]





	Seeing Eye To Eye

**Author's Note:**

> I am sorry for many things, but mainly the godawful pun that is the title.
> 
> I wrote this fic in the space of about two hours total at 1am, based on an ask I came across on someone else's blog by complete accident. It was just a list of kinks, but my brain put them together and came up with this scenario. I didn't mean to actually write it into a fic, but... the whole thing got very, VERY out of hand. >>;;
> 
>  **Kinks:** Tentacles, oviposition, hypnosis, uh… xeno, or monster fucking, or whatever you call getting fucked by a giant eyeball monster idk. Everything is 100% consensual.
> 
>  **Note:** Reader is gender neutral, but is referred to as wearing lingerie ('cause that was one of the things on the kink list). No reason a dude can’t dress up in some nice damn panties to make himself feel good though. Fuckin' own it.

There was a very large, very agitated eyeball curling around on itself in the centre of your bed. Your bed where you had been quite happily entertaining yourself with a hand down your (very pretty and brought out specially) panties, until you had been forcibly evicted by the electric energy of reality glitching out into a burst of static just a few moments ago. It had ruined the mood somewhat.

Anti looks utterly unapologetic about you having ended up flustered and bewildered on the floor. “Hey,” he grins, all inhumanly sharp teeth. His glowing green eyes rake over you a little too hard. “Ye didn’t have to get all gussied up for lil ol’ me,” Anti says with a cackle in his voice.

This was your best damn lingerie and you didn’t appreciate Anti laughing at it.

“What are you doing here?” you scowl.

Anti jerks a thumb in the direction of the current occupant of your bed. The current occupant who looks… exceptionally like a lifesize version of the channel’s mascot. Because that’s exactly what it is. “He,” Anti says, “is bein’ a bastard. And I ain’t dealing with it.”

That explained absolutely nothing. You stare blankly at Anti.

“He’s in heat or whatever, don’t ask me ‘bout fuckin’ monster eyeball physiology. ‘S just how they reproduce. Go into heat, find some warm pretty little thing to use as an incubator, lay a bunch of eggs in ‘em,” Anti shrugs.

Again. He wasn’t exactly explaining the real question – namely, why the fuck was he here – but it was explanation enough for you to put two and two together.

“Hey! Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold the  _fuck_ up. Why are you,” you point accusingly at Anti, “bringing your goddamn horny pet eyeball into  _my_ bedroom?”

He stares at you with a wide, unsettling smile. “Oh, puppet. Do you need to ask?”

No, you suppose you don’t. What was that about  _laying eggs?_

You eye up the creature on your bed. He’s finally stopped squirming enough to pay attention, and is looking back at you with a disconcerting amount of awareness. And… hunger. There’s something oddly captivating about staring into his gaze, and you can’t quite pull yourself away. You swallow.

Anti snaps his fingers to get your attention. Or the eyeball’s. “Oi, Sam! Shove yerself over an’ make room.”

Somewhat petulantly, the eyeball scootches over to the other side of the bed, then you yelp as Anti unceremoniously picks you up and tosses you into the spot Sam had just been occupying.

“Now. I’m just guessin’ by that pretty lil get-up you’ve got goin’ on, but I’m thinking you were after some fun tonight, right?” Anti purrs. “So I reckon we can help each other out.”

“You want me to fuck your horny pet eyeball and let it lay eggs inside me.”

“Yep, now ye got the idea!”

You glance over at the eyeball – at Sam, his name is Sam. Obviously. Then you look back at Anti. Then down at your own hand, your fingers still a little slick with lube from where you’d been toying with yourself before being so rudely interrupted.

“Okay,” you agree.

Anti looks delighted. For a moment, and then the expression morphs into something far more lecherous. “You heard ‘em, Sam.”

Then there’s a tentacle curling around your ankle, gradually sliding up your leg and—that sure is a sensation. It’s soft, a little squishy, but it’s grip around you is thoroughly tight. You can feel the muscle roiling beneath the skin as it moves. And it’s  _slimy_. Not that you mind that, particularly, it’s just that he’s already making a huge mess on your bed. And now on you.

Anti catches your expression and laughs. “He’s not normally so messy, he just gets like that when he’s needy, ye know how it is.”

Well, you suppose you do. Because as weird as it is, the sensation of Sam’s tentacle curling around you is… definitely doing things to you. You find yourself breathing a little quicker of the thought that that thing is – presumably – going to be going inside you.

“Are you going to… be watching?” you ask.

Anti grins at you, and there’s suddenly something dark and hungry in his eyes. “I can join in, if you prefer.”

So that’s how you end up in Anti’s lap, laid back against his chest and head tilted back while his inhumanly sharp teeth bruise deep purple hickies into your flesh. His clawed fingers run lazily over your body, plucking at the lace of your pretty lingerie. Your lingerie that you really should have taken off, because Sam’s tentacle is curling beneath your panties and—it’s not that it’s not  _nice._ You find yourself grinding against the touch, moaning softly. But also—fucking slime. All over your best panties.

You give Sam a little shove in irritation. Apparently this was not the best thing to do, because Sam gives a little trill and stills. Very slowly, and with far more purposeful intent than an eyeball should possess, he turns to face you.

“Wh-what’s he doing?” you ask Anti.

Anti chuckles quietly by your ear, biting at the lobe and causing you to shiver. “Aw. He thinks yer not having fun. He’s just gonna make sure you are. You don’t mind, do ye?”

For a moment you’re confused. Then Sam trills again, demanding your attention, and you look at him and—

His gaze drags you in, instantaneously captivating. You swallow, hard, but you can’t look away. He’s doing  _something_ , and you don’t know what, or how, but there’s a curious pressure in your head. Not in a bad way. It’s just… hot. Hot and needy in a way that makes you want to squirm. Hot and needy in a way that makes all your thoughts melt away.

You can’t exactly remember how to speak, but you let out a quiet whine. It wasn’t like you weren’t turned on before, but now all you can focus on is that goddamn tentacle. It’s back to rubbing against you, and the action sends bursts of pleasure sparking through your veins. You want it.  _Fuck_. You want it so bad, you can’t even think of anything else. Your whole body feels like it’s aching with the need to have it inside you.

A desperate whimper bursts from your lips as the tip pushes your panties aside and presses into you. You’re vaguely aware of Anti’s glitching little laugh behind you, amused by the state you’re in. It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t matter. Nothing matters other than being filled to the fucking brim as soon as possible.

The tentacle is slick and your body is so relaxed and ready now, without your mind getting in the way. It makes a few teasing, shallow thrust, as if testing you can take it. And then it sinks into you and you  _moan._

You spread your legs wider, tilting your hips up like you’re just begging it go in deeper, as deep as it can. Filling you up until it’s almost uncomfortable – and it probably should be at least a little bit uncomfortable, but that blissful pressure in your head keeps you from feeling anything other than pure pleasure.

“A-Anti…” you gasp.

“I’m not the one who’s fuckin’ ye, pet.”

The tentacle inside you moves, thrusting firmly, and you arch in Anti’s hold. “ _Sam!_ ” you scream. And you think Sam must’ve liked that, because the thrusts only increase in enthusiasm. He’s making cheerful little trilling noises, clearly enjoying himself as well. Does it feel good for him? How tight you are?

It’s so hot. So hot and  _good_ , and all you can feel is pleasure as Sam’s tentacle fucks into you. It’s thick and deep, and you can feel all the ways it curls inside you, which is actually kind of weird. But good weird. Very good weird. Especially when Sam finds a particularly good spot to rub against and you cry out in absolute bliss.

The eyeball makes a pleased sound, happy to have made you make a noise like that, and then proceeds to  _keeping fucking relentlessly right **there**_.

Your eyes roll back in your head, the pleasure so intense that you can barely breathe. You try to gasp both their names, but all that comes out are senseless, desperate sounds. You need something you ground you, you feel like you’re going to come apart at the seams, and you try to reach out to grab Anti’s thighs, but—

Oh. The realisation is slow and sluggish. You can’t actually move. You’re not in control of your body, not to that degree. The desperate clutching of your fingers, the way your toes curl into the bedsheets, that’s you. But when you arch up, offering more and more of your body to the tentacle invading you… that’s not any conscious thought of your own that’s doing that.

You find you don’t particularly mind. Not if it’s going to keep being this good.

Sam doesn’t stop or slow down in the slightest, and the pleasure just keeps building and building and  _building_  until you feel like you could break. Your face is flushed and eyes completely glazed over, a trail of saliva trickling out from the corner of your mouth.

You’re going to cum. You don’t even need anything else, just that fucking tentacle and the pressure in your head is enough to send you over the edge.

You moan helplessly, whole body tensing and trembling as you hit your peak. Whatever Sam is doing only draws your orgasm out, the pleasure not quite fading but almost holding you in your high and it’s incredible but almost too much at the same time. Your muscles twitch weakly as your body tries to cum  _again_ , suspended in that state of bliss and it’s enough to drive you fucking  _insane._

Your words aren’t even remotely coherent, but you’re begging anyway, begging both of them.

There’s a reason for it, you realise, and another full-bodied tremble runs through you. Because now Sam is making a high keening moan, and something is stretching you out even further, and you remember the second part of this deal. Eggs.

You can feel them, the way the tentacle bulges slightly as Sam pushes them into you, and you have no idea how many eggs he’s putting inside you but it’s enough to make you feel stuffed full and absolutely filthy. It’s the most agonising bliss you’ve ever experienced.

Consciousness is a vague and nebulous thing at that point. It’s not that you passed out at any point; more that you got so consumed by pleasure and sheer sensation that you can’t actually remember what was physically happening. Because the next thing you know, the tentacle isn’t inside you anymore, and it seems like it hasn’t been for a while, but everything is all blurred in your head.

Sam is utterly content, curled up in on himself and seeming to be dozing, trilling softly. Now that’s he’s not got you locked into his gaze like that, you finally find your mind returning to you. And the first thing you do is moan.

You’re a mess. You shift uncomfortably, Sam’s slime leaking from your stretched-out hole. Though it’s not like the bed could get in any worse of a state anyway.

“ _Fuck_ ,” you groan empathetically.

“Pretty much,” Anti agrees, sounding far too cheerful.

You cast and exhausted glance over at him; from his undone jeans and the slick mess all over his hand, it’s clear he took care of himself while enjoying the show.

You kind of want to be mad at him for just glitching in here to let Sam fuck you, but, honestly? As fucked out and full of eggs as you currently are – and that’s something you’re going to have to deal with, but later. Much later – you’re not exactly complaining.

**Author's Note:**

> This probably could have - probably should have, one may reasonably argue - just stayed as a silly little scribble on the nsfw blog. I didn't have to post it here and make it all official. But I did anyway.
> 
> ...I mean let's be real, this isn't even the _first_ tentacle/oviposition fic I've posted. Frankly, you should expect this from me.


End file.
